An Elegant Weapon
by RoxieFlash
Summary: Despite all the things he didn't know, there was one thing of which Yoda was certain. There was no Jedi named Drix Antilles, and there never had been.
1. Chapter 1

Master Drix Antilles was a fixture in the Jedi Temple. He had been so for nearly forty years, ever since he'd been brought to the temple as a baby, where he'd been raised and trained alongside such Jedi as Qui-Gon Jinn and Mace Windu. In his youth he had been a champion lightsaber duelist, and more recently, one of the few veterans of the Battle of Geonosis. He had an exemplary reputation as a mediator and a peacemaker, and had more than once voiced opposition to the war against the Separatists, though he had done his duty in defending the Republic. He was well liked among his peers, respected among younglings, and praised by his elders.

All in all, Master Antilles was a perfect example of what a Jedi ought to be – a practical beacon of light.

And Yoda had never heard of him.

Yoda's own personal quarters were housed beneath the council chambers proper. They were perhaps the plainest and smallest of accommodations available in all of the Temple's five towers, having once been a large cleaning closet attached to a small washroom. Over the years the aged Master had been offered other, finer rooms, but he needed little and preferred quiet, and when the council was not in session this part of the Temple was largely uninhabited, save for cleaning droids and the occasional curious apprentice.

His one indulgence was the large pane of thick glass that served for an outer wall, filling the room with natural light and providing a panoramic view of the city-planet below. As he did almost every afternoon, Mace Windu sat framed against a backdrop of speeders buzzing back and forth across the skyline of Coruscant, sharing a drink and a conversation in the lull between council sessions.

Today's visit, however, had taken an unexpected turn.

"He's finally decided to take a Padawan," continued Master Windu, looking pleased with himself. "I've been trying to persuade him for years."

The sound of giggling beyond the marble wall was accompanied by the scuffling of small boots; several clone detachments and their commanding officers had returned home from the war, and the day's classes were cancelled in celebration. Yoda tapped his gimer stick on the floor and the giggling ceased.

"An old friend of yours, yes? This man, Antilles."

"Very old," said Mace, leaning forward on his knees. "If he'd stay put long enough, he'd be a fine addition to the council. Maybe this is just what he needs."

More scuffling, and this time muffled whispers and the bright lights of three tiny lives bobbing around outside his private chamber door. Nine hundred years of life had honed his instincts so that his students were always blazing, distinct presences whose identities he could glean without effort, but today, they were indistinguishable. Everything was muted, from the tiniest younglings, to the ever-present buzz of the clone troopers, to the mind of the Order's most dangerous warrior, like a storm cloud had drifted across his mind's eye.

Yoda tapped his walking stick again. "Come."

The door slid to the side, revealing a little human girl, probably no more than five years old and with bright, curly hair bigger than she was. Yoda's ears swiveled forward and his eyebrows lifted.

"Master sir," she said, offering a little curtsy. In the hallway beyond, there were two others, silhouetted against a decorative bust, but he didn't – couldn't – recognize them. "They've sent me to tell you that the _Toil and Trouble_ has landed. The soldiers are here. I think there's going to be a party!"

Her name was Maia. She had been his pupil since nearly her birth, when he himself had discovered her abandoned in a Coruscant alleyway. He had seen her first steps, words, and the first day her hands gripped a lightsaber. And yet now, standing here with the child close enough to touch, he could not discern the hills and valleys of consciousness that separated her from any other person. Beyond that she existed, he couldn't sense anything about her.

His ears swiveled upwards and he offered the child a delighted smile, sliding down from the cushion where he'd been seated.

"Come, Master Windu, a party we must attend," he said, stretching. "Welcome the soldiers home. Master Kenobi! Jedi Skywalker!" he paused for a moment. "Your friend, Master Antilles."

The Force was blunted. In a thousand years, Yoda had never encountered anything that could create such an effect, and at the moment, he had no suspicions as to what it could be. The only thing he had was a place to begin.

Despite all the things he didn't know, there was one thing of which Yoda was certain.

There was no Jedi named Drix Antilles, and there never had been.

"Maia," said Master Yoda. He put his rough hand into her tiny, soft one. The contact was comforting against the stifling blindness. "With you I will sit."


	2. Chapter 2

During shore leave, Ahsoka usually took her meals in the clone mess with Rex. The food was terrible, and Anakin's clone squadron tended to stay on just this side of sloshed whenever they weren't on duty. Still, despite the horrible rubbery meat and the resounding assault of never ending off-key star shanties on her ears, at least she didn't have to wear a uniform.

She wasn't quite sure what it was that made her strap her lightsaber to her belt and head down to the dining hall to eat with the rest of the Jedi. Maybe it was because she'd been away for a long time, and she missed them, or maybe it was because she was craving a meal that didn't come from a ration packet for a change. Or maybe it was because her Master, the highlyesteemed and most worthy Chosen One, kept sending her holos of himself eating chocolate cake.

Whatever it was, she was immensely grateful for it by the time she'd heaped her plate with tomo-spiced ribenes, piping hot potatoes, and a slice of cake roughly the size of a small moon. Looking around for a place to sit, Ahsoka quickly decided against the table where Anakin was making wide gestures with his arms in between bites, no doubt regaling everyone who would listen with the tales of their latest adventure. The thought of it made her suddenly tired, and she cast her eyes around looking for another place to sit.

About three tables down from Skyguy and his rapt audience, there was a mostly-empty table. Ahsoka made her way towards it, enjoying the white noise of the students' chatter around her, until she got close enough for it to resolve into voices.

"Won't be long now, duster," said one of the students: a thin, waifish girl named Lucia whom Ahsoka had once punched on the nose for yanking on her headtails. "We'll be shipping out soon. My Master sent for me this morning and told me all about it. We're practically on the front lines. "

"Shove off, Lucia."

Lucia had cornered the long table's one occupant, an older Padawan called Rose with whom Ahsoka had always been friendly. She was one of many apprentices who'd been left without a teacher after the Battle of Geonosis, and the last, Ahsoka knew, to have not been selected by a new Master. She was neither strong in the Force, nor particularly good at taking instruction, and with a lightsaber she was an absolute nightmare. No Master wanted to invest the time in someone from whom he could expect so little.

Most likely, she was bound for the Agri-Corps. As a youngling, Ahsoka could remember how every time she went unpicked, the dull future of a farmer loomed larger in front of her mind's eye. She couldn't imagine being Rose's age – having had the future of a Jedi promised you, and then having it snatched away. Rose's twentieth birthday was coming up quick, though, and if she hadn't found a teacher by then, it would be her duty to farm Jedi-owned land that helped to feed the poor.

Still, she had a talent for trouble, a compassionate heart, and had once told Skyguy his hair was tragic. It was enough for Ahsoka. She took a few quiet steps up to the table and behind Lucia, but the other girl was too ensconced in her bullying to notice.

"Of course, you'll be shipping out, too. That deadline's coming up, isn't it? It must be devastating, living your whole life as a Jedi only to get stuck on some backwater dusting crops."

"Lean over," said Rose with a saccharine smile. "I could borrow some of your dandruff and get it done in half the time."

Lucia looked murderous, but before she could say anything else, Ahsoka cleared her throat. The entire group of students jumped, and she offered Rose a toothy grin. There were advantages to being the Padawan of the Chosen One, and scaring your classmates into behaving was apparently one of them.

"Is this seat taken?"

Rose shook her head, looking pleased as the crowd cleared out. Lucia, pressing her lips into a thin line, glared at them both and then turned on her heel and only barely avoided stomping away, taking her seat next to a stately, long-limbed Zabrak female whom Ahsoka distantly recalled as her Master.

"Thanks for that," said Rose, tearing at a piece of bread and popping it in her mouth. "She's worse these days, especially since she's got the news her trials'll be soon. Sorta feel sorry for whatever troops'll be takin' orders from her."

"Is it always like this?"

Rose waved it off dismissively. "Nevermind that! You've been away for_ages – _you've gotta be burstin' with stories. Come on now, tell us one!"

Normally, such a request was just the thing she hid out with Rex and the other troopers to _avoid._ While Ahsoka craved adventure just as guiltily as her Master did, reliving the highlights wasn't always her favorite part. All the messy, philosophical questions of being a Jedi tended to come up in the rewind, and Ahsoka was, for lack of a better way to put it, mentally exhausted.

But looking at Rose, eyes hungry for stories of life outside the Temple, Ahsoka picked up her fork and between bites of what was frankly the best meal she'd had in months, began to talk. For whatever reason, the annoyance didn't surface like it usually did; in fact, more than once she found herself mimicking Skyguy's enthusiasm for both wild hand gestures and forgetting not to talk and chew at the same time.

It wasn't long before Ahsoka looked up to find her plate clean and the dining hall nearly empty.

"But you know," she said finally, finishing her story and wiping her mouth. "The rest of it isn't really that exciting. It's mostly making sure His Chosenness doesn't fall asleep at the wing. I've gotten very good at finding sticks to poke him with."

"S'better than here, that's for sure." Rose leaned forward, ticking her schedule off on her fingers. "Wake up, catch the shuttle, go to class, catch the shuttle back to quarters, eat, and go to bed. Repeat. If I'm lucky I get to nearly decapitate myself with this."

Rose patted her hip, lightly tapping the lightsaber resting there. She'd become rather infamous over the last few years for making frequent and often disastrous changes to its design, which she never quite seemed satisfied with. She often swung between periods of intense apathy towards her swordsmanship, which never seemed to improve, and periods in which she trained long before everyone was awake, and long after they'd gone to bed.

"Any luck? I mean, I know most of the Jedi aren't even here right now, but there's got to be someone looking, right?"

Ahsoka happened at that moment to glance upwards. Skyguy had cornered some poor knight and Master Obi-wan was trying tactfully to extract him; next to them, Master Yoda sat, seemingly enraptured by the childish babble of a youngling seated to his right. There were several empty seats after that, and there, just getting up from the table, was Master Antilles.

Master Antilles was a tall man – though not as tall as Skyguy – with very strong features and an infectious sense of humor. Ahsoka liked him. He was clever, and always quick to come up with ideas that kept the most people alive with the least amount of explosives. As a youngling his classes had always been her favorite, because he talked to his students like they were real people and not empty vessels that needed filling.

And as far as she knew, he'd never taken a Padawan.

Rose followed her gaze and made an appreciative noise. "Wouldn't mind it if _he_ had a look."

"Rose!"

Ahsoka felt her cheeks warm. She'd forgotten that about Rose – that the lesson against attachments had never quite seemed to take. And, to her credit, for a human, he wasn't bad-looking – all short dark hair and intense blue eyes. He wore dark leathers, like Skyguy, but there was something sturdy and reliable about him, like you were safe with him wherever you went.

"What? Nothin' wrong with lookin', is there? Come on, you've got the Chosen One! Don't tell me you've never looked!

She looked over at Skyguy, who was now telling the poor, beleaguered knight about the time he'd dressed as a milkmaid to save Ahsoka and Obi-wan from a droid detachment that had laid its base down in a farm on Ryloth. The story was loud enough to hear over the din of the dining hall and Skyguy was still chewing his food with his mouth wide open.

Ahsoka made a noise at Rose that roughly translated into most languages as _eugh. _

"But he's gorgeous!"

"If you say so."

Ahsoka returned her focus to the only part of her meal left – the cake – and her train of thought was momentarily derailed. She was in the middle of plans to sneak Rex a slice when she remembered what she'd been about to say.

"Rose –"

She'd been about to mention that Master Antilles was looking for a Padawan, and that maybe, Rose ought to think about going over to talk to him. She herself might even be able to introduce them, and that would give Rose a bit of a headstart, because while her head wasn't nearly as big as her Master's, Ahsoka knew that Anakin's title came with some weight attached to it.

It turned out, though, that Ahsoka didn't have to do any of these things, because when she looked up from her dessert, Master Antilles was already there, leaning slightly against the table so that he was just a little close for comfort. It suddenly felt as though she and the some-hundred other Jedi had vanished out of the dining hall; Rose and the older man seemed alone, as though they were the only two creatures in all the universe.

"Hello," said Master Antilles.

"Hello," said Rose.

One leather-clad arm reached across the table, passing in front of Ahsoka's face. He detached Rose's lightsaber from her belt, and brought it up to his eye level. "Sparkin' a bit," he said by way of explanation. "Happens when the crystal needs cleanin'."

His hands moved deftly across the weapon, tweaking small knobs and adjusting settings Ahsoka couldn't see. After a few moments he reached back across the table and placed the lightsaber firmly back in Rose's hand.

"I'm Master Antilles, by the way, and you are?"

"Rose."

"Nice to meet you, Rose."

Just the barest hint of a smile teased the corners of his mouth as he gave them a short bow and moved away from the table.


End file.
